When Time is Unlike a Sonnet
being Queer feels dangerous. I dread back to 14 (still dancing, winsome wincing smiles, still queer) when I found the fear. Being here, however, even in this liberal bubble popping shot through near familiar street corners turning memorials, haunts me, through the lineages of queer kin that existed we who exist, despite deferrals claiming that's enough. To be smudged our color explodes twisted — like great turning jellyfish swarms thrive catastrophic in the depth and diversity of deepsea oceans weird beauty. Neon frills and fins swim whirlpooling in volta formation found within found family herds I want to spin and grind, to catch all careening. A love so dangerous. With every queer being. On this dancefloor from the seafloor in a world/time on fire.